


For God did not spare angels when they sinned

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: Modesty had been the one to give Credence the most hope. She was very young, by angels' standards, but no less wise. She had placed her tiny, pale hand on his forearm and squeezed, a little smile curling up on her severe face."You will find your human one day," she had assured him, full of certainty and confidence in her brother's destiny. "And I'm sure your human will be very special."She was right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here I go with a new one-shot and a plot I've had in mind for years, even though I never found the perfect characters to go with it until today. I hope you will enjoy this story!

  


It always started with a whisper, thrumming through the gardens of Heaven and echoing into the angels' ears, although only one of them would hear it as a loud cry and feel the pull within himself. Only one of them would perceive the voice of their human charge as they reached out to the angels unknowingly, focusing on salvation without any awareness of the many winged figures observing them.

It was an age-long tradition: once or twice a day, sometimes even thrice, the hum would resonate and call for one particular angel, bestowed with a mission as the guardian of a lost human on earth. The angels would gather and pray together for their chosen brother or sister to complete their mission without trouble, to bring peace and comfort to the human it was their duty to protect.

Every angel Credence knew had been called at least twice in their everlasting existence, all but him. The centuries-old creature had never felt the pull inside himself, had never been touched by the mind of a person screaming for help. In spite of his many prayers to their Father, the angel's wish of protecting a human had yet to be granted...

"Perhaps you are not ready," Tina said to him once, kindness in her voice and in her eyes. "Give it time."

She only meant well but her words had felt like a dagger in Credence's heart: what if she was right? What if he was not good enough, or too weak, to support his charge? Tears in his eyes, the angel had prayed with more fervour than ever before, hoping to be able to one day give the strength his assigned human would need in order to stand up, as they felt like their life was sucked away.

"Perhaps they are not ready for you," Newt told him one day, sitting next to Credence who was observing the humans on earth, wondering which one would need him in the future - hopefully. "Or perhaps they don't deserve you."

Surprisingly, Modesty had been the one to give him the most hope. She was very young, by angels' standards, but no less wise. She had placed her tiny, pale hand on his forearm and squeezed, a little smile curling up on her severe face.

"You will find your human one day," she had assured him, full of certainty and confidence in her brother's destiny. "And I'm sure your human will be very special."

She was right.

  


  


Credence heard the scream. He felt the pull, the call, the clawing inside him, urging him to rush to his human's side as it - _he_ \- cried and died a little inside, muffling whimpers and waking up from nightmares that left him shaking for hours in his bed.

Percival.

The angel gasped, clenching his chest as he shared his charge's - _Percival, Percival, Percival_ \- pain. He did not recall having witnessed his brothers or sisters react like this when they felt the call and he wondered for a second whether that was abnormal, but then Percival's mind was screaming for him. Credence only had to think of the man and he was pulled into a maelstrom that propelled him to earth.

In the blink of an eye, the angel had left Heaven to land into a dark bedroom that smelled like fear and despair. Percival was lying in his bed, wide awake, staring straight at the ceiling while he tried to put his breathing under control. He could not. Credence could feel how his chest seemed too tight to allow any intake of air, just as if he could not breathe himself. The angel didn't reveal himself and Percival could not see him, but he still stepped towards the bed carefully, without the slightest noise, until he was close enough to touch the man's forehead with the tip of his index finger.

Percival went lax as his breathing evened out, his eyelids fluttering shut as he fell asleep. This time, Credence made sure that no nightmare would disturb the man's rest. The angel took a step back then, raising his hand in front of his face to examine it. As he had touched Percival's skin, he had felt... a tingle. A short-lived but intense sensation, like electricity running up and down his body in a millisecond, and his brain was suddenly filled with pieces and segments of his human's story, flashing before his eyes in a constant and fast stream.

_A blonde man with a smirk and striking eyes. Pain. Punches and hits falling like the rain in autumn. Blood. The blade of a knife against his throat, when punches were not enough to make him talk. Despair. The thought that no one would find him, save him. Torture. Again._

Credence's eyes filled with tears as he learned Percival's story, how a good man and a dedicated cop had been held prisoner for months and tortured by the head of a criminal organisation that he aimed to bring down. How Percival had suffered, beaten and defeated as he thought that his fellow police officers would never find him. How he had held his tongue though, never betraying his friends who had eventually found him... Almost too late. Percival was barely alive. And now, he was haunted by a wicked laugh that kept him awake in the darkest hours of the night.

The angel blinked the tears away and approached the man again. Captivity had left his mark on Percival's body, that was thinner than it should be. Bony wrists, too sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes... At least the angel could fix that, with a little time and care, but the wounds in Percival's souls were far more worrying.

Credence would help him though. Percival needed him to.

  


  


Credence's heart ached for the man when the first thing he did after waking up early in the morning was to stand in front of the mirror in his bathroom.

"I'm free," Percival told his reflection, voice too shaky to truly believe the words. "I'm fine. I got out. He can't hurt me anymore."

He was scared... Scared to go out. Scared to turn on the radio and heard about the trial of Grin... of _him_. He could not even think the name without falling to his knees and curling on himself, hands protecting his head as he screamed _no more, please, no more_.

Credence's gentle touches softened the lines around Percival's mouth as the angel helped him to relax a little.

Percival was also limping. As a few days went by and the angel observed him, _learned_ him, he realised that sometimes it was barely noticeable at all, while sometimes it got so bad that Percival could not stand up to walk. A cane waited by the front door of his apartment, but the broken man never did so much as glancing at it. Why would he? He did not want to go out.

Instead, he remained holed up inside, reading to busy his mind with something else than memories of times he wished to forget, or painting. Credence's angel heart broke when he saw that Percival only used hues of black and grey in patterns that screamed chaos.

Nights were the hardest for Percival. His exhausted mind and body longed for a few hours of sleep but the man just couldn't, not when he feared that his freedom was just a dream, that he would fall asleep and wake up back into the dark and humid basement that had been his world for five months.

Credence tried to help. Like he had during his first night on earth, the angel touched Percival's forehead to make him sleep, a dreamless and healing rest that would become more and more natural, if given time.

"I will watch over you," he promised the sleeping man on the second night. "I will not let anything happen to you again."

Credence wondered why this had happened in the first place: why did such a good man like Percival had been subjected to so much hurt? He had done nothing to deserve this pain, so why? Because someone had to? Or because the higher powers of destiny and fate knew that Percival was strong enough to survive it? The thought didn't sit well with him but the angel quickly locked the questions away; it was not his place to discuss the past. All he had to do was to focus on the _now_ and _here_ in order to build the man's future.

After Percival fell asleep on the third night, with a little help from his angel, Credence sat down on the bed next to the still form, and ran a light hand through the man's hair, black streaked with silver lines. He wanted to know if Percival's hair had always been like this or if the silver came from the stress and pressure weighing on his shoulders; either way, Credence reckoned that it looked good on him.

The angel smiled when Percival, although asleep, rolled over and settled closer to his thighs, leaning into the warm touch of Credence's hand through his hair and down to his neck, where he massaged the tense muscles under his fingertips.

"You are free," Credence whispered in his ear on impulse, "You are fine. You got out. He can't hurt you anymore."

Perhaps if Percival heard the words when they were said by someone else, he would start to believe them.

  


  


The presence of Percival in his mind felt warm. Credence couldn't explain this, how the bond between a human and their angel worked, but he knew it was there, soft and comforting despite the pain that Percival - hence Credence - felt more often than the angel wished.

Step by step, day after day, Credence worked on building Percival back up. It was not only up to him, sadly: he could help but ultimately, Percival had to stand up on his own... Credence was like the cane by the door, useless as long as the man did not want to get out of his apartment.

The angel could spur him on though, so he did just that, to the best of his ability. Credence started by cleaning up around them, making the space look brighter. He brought subtle (or so he thought) changes to the apartment, like a flowerpot on the kitchen windowsill, certain that Percival would see it since he usually drank his morning coffee in front of that window - staring outside and longing but never _daring_. He gathered lavender twigs and hung them in the bedroom, filling it with the relaxing scent, as he hoped they would enable his protégé to sleep more peacefully.

Credence was doing his best but sometimes he feared that was not enough; yet, how could he know what to do? Protecting humans did not come with a manual that explained what to do in each situation, so the angel made it up as he went, praying that he was doing some good to Percival.

He remained beside the man at night, soothing the nightmares when they came, whispering in Percival's ear that he was safe, that he would not let anyone hurt him. He was not certain that the man heard or understood his words every time but he often noticed that his voice seemed to have an appeasing effect on Percival, so... Credence kept talking, hoping that his words would somehow remain in a corner of the human's mind so that he could come back to them in times of doubt or fear.

  


  


Percival was going crazy. He'd first come to this conclusion a few days ago, when lavender had mysteriously made its way into his bedroom; while he did enjoy its scent, he didn't recall having hung the twigs above his desk, nor did he remember ordering flowers to decorate his kitchen windows - brightening up the place was not his top priority right now.

So, the only explanation was that he had finally snapped, doing things that he couldn't remember afterwards. He also heard voices at night... Well, only one actually, stronger and louder than the nightmares he was plagued with, and he accepted as much: anything to make him sleep, really. However, what worried him was the presence he could feel next to him, nights and days alike, and he only refrained from running away because first, he was still limping and would break something if he tried and second, because this presence... It felt gentle. Kind and warm, protective of him.

So yes, he was going crazy. Sometimes, Percival even thought that he could feel fingertips brushing against his skin or a hand touching his, holding it, giving him strength.

"H... Hello?" he finally whispered one day, voice rough with disuse, after he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. "Who's there?"

Crazy indeed. Now he was talking to himself, imagining that someone else was there to listen to him... But something shifted in the air. A warm breeze blew against his face and he heard a rustle behind him, like feathers rubbing together when a bird spread its wings. Percival turned around and his eyes widened.

Shifting his weight awkwardly in front of Percival, as if he wasn't sure to be welcome, stood a young man - and there would have been nothing wrong with that, if said man had not appeared out of nowhere and didn't bear wings. Large and soft-looking white feathers, trembling with every unsure breath the man took as he stared at Percival, incertitude written in the dark orbs of his eyes that reflected wonder but also the experience of time, even though the man himself looked ageless.

"Who... Who are you? What are you?" he stammered in shock, taking a step back.

Percival was not scared though, which seemed strange to him since he'd dreaded that Grindel... That _his_ people would come after him to drag him back to his cell, in that horrible basement, and resume the torture. He'd even dreamed of it several times, although the past few nights, the nightmares had faded into sweeter dreams. Right now, if anything, Percival was curious, because the man in front of him didn't look threatening at all... Powerful, yes, but in a reassuring way and suddenly, Percival realised that the kindness the stranger let out in strong waves was one he had grown used to feel at night.

The creature, for it could not be human, was glancing at him with a sort of hesitation that Percival didn't understand: why such a reluctance to look at him properly, or answer him? He knew, by now, that the man had observed him, lived around him, for several days, so why act shy now that they stood face to face?

Credence, under the scrutinising gaze of the man, could feel himself shaking. He was not supposed to reveal himself, angels had to remain invisible... And yet there he was, in broad daylight as he made himself known to the eyes of a human, disobeying Heaven's explicit and centuries-old orders for one reason only: his heart was telling him that Percival Graves deserved to know that someone wanted his happiness and that Credence had made him a priority. Whatever it took, he wanted to make this hurting man see the light again.

"My name," he began softly, "is Credence."

"Credence..." Percival repeated softly, the odd name rolling on his tongue. "What are you? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

The angel took a step forward, eyes earnest as he rested both his hands on the man's shoulders. Percival was a little shorter than him and the fact made him smile.

"I want nothing from you," Credence eventually told the man with a little shake of his head. "I came to help you, Percival... Do you not know what I am? Can you not guess?"

Two hesitant eyes glanced at his wings and Credence saw the tremor in Percival's hands as the man fought the urge to reach out and touch the feathers.

"Are you even real?" he whispered in awe while he looked the angel up and down, doing with his eyes what he could not with his hands.

Taking pity on the poor man who seemed to be drowning in doubts and confusion, Credence cupped Percival's face between his gentle hands and rested their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he let out a bright glow, even though he tried to dim it to a softer light in order not to hurt Percival. He felt the man shiver as the warmth of his power surrounded him like a shield, a bubble of peace, and when Credence stepped back to look at him again, the human gasped at the loss of the sensation.

"Everybody has a guardian angel, Percival," he explained in a whisper, standing so close still that the man could feel the creature's breath on his lips. "And I came for you... You shall not be alone anymore, I promise."

  


  


Percival felt like he was living in a dream during the next few days, trying to balance the strange knowledge that an angel had invaded his house (for apparently good reasons, granted) and the even stranger emotions that the creature awoke in the depths of his soul.

First, there was hope. The fact that he had not been completely forgotten and left alone in his distress was comforting and made him feel like he was somewhat important, in the grand scheme of things. Otherwise, why would an angel care about him so much?

But then, there was also the anger. What had taken them - him, Credence - so long? For _months_ , he had remained in this basement. It had been weeks, since his colleagues found him; weeks that he had spent holed up, barely leaving his bed, barely sleeping, barely _living_ at all. Angels... Weren't they supposed to keep bad things from happening to their protégés? Well, newsflash: the worst had happened to him. Where was Credence, when he was screaming as Grindelwald sliced and twisted and cut? Where was the angel, when he was begging for mercy, crying, still holding his tongue to protect his friends while all he wanted to do was make it stop?

Only once did he ask the question - lashed out, actually. All his anger and his resentment at his fellow police officers for taking so long to find him poured out of his mouth like a torrent and Credence flinched at the harshness of his words. Percival stopped though, as soon as he saw the telltale wetness in the angel's eyes: Credence was crying.

"I'm sorry," the creature said, wings crossed in front of him like a shield, partly hiding the shudders that rocked his body as he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Percival... I'm sorry I could not take your pain away. I was there for centuries, thousands of years, and I've waited for you, I swear, for so long! And yet I was so late... I'm so sorry... Forgive me. Angels only come when their human has reached the bottom; your kind is so resilient, we only interfere when you have no strength left. And I'm sorry you were so strong that you had to come so far in the desperation to receive help. Had I known how you were suffering... I would have taken your place."

The thought didn't sit well with him. Percival never asked again.

  


  


Credence thought that living with a human, while said human was aware of his presence, was the oddest occurrence in his life so far - and Lord, how long he had lived already! He had seen the Tower of Babel rise then fall, he had seen many wars and miracles, ugly betrayals and wonderful acts of love, humans had both disappointed and amazed him, and now... He had met the most amazing of them all.

Percival often left him speechless. There was so much strength and will inside him, even now, while he felt broken and unable to find happiness again... But Credence trusted that one day, he would step in the light again and never leave anymore. The angel sometimes needed to fight the urge to bow down to him, humbled as he felt by so much grandeur in the man's soul. Percival was only human but... Somehow, Credence reckoned that even though he was a less powerful creature, he was better than some angels: Percival forgave him for coming to him late. Had the roles been reversed, Credence was not sure that he would have been able to, or that he would have wanted to. Perhaps his anger would have spiralled out of control. Perhaps he would have exploded under the fury of his repressed hatred for the people who had left him to rot in a dark basement, even unwillingly.

Angels were good. So good, in fact, that they expected everyone to be like this - and the disappointment felt even more bitter, turning them into creatures of shadow. Humans, though... They were creatures of love as much as they were deceitful. Betrayal hurt them but didn't destroy them as thoroughly as they would an angel, unprepared and almost defenceless against the darkest parts of this world.

  


  


One day, Percival realised that he looked way too often at the angel. He first found a reasonable explanation to this fact: he simply wanted to make sure that Credence was still there and would not leave him, as he had promised. The angel helped him. He didn't want to lose him.

(But then, Percival realised that he looked way too often at the angel because he _liked_ to.)

  


  


Percival still didn't dare to go out of the apartment, not even in the hallway right across the front door. However, he had started to stare longingly through the window in the kitchen, eyes lost beyond the flowers that Credence still made a point to change every two or three days. The angel knew that it was only a matter of days before the man tried to go for a short walk around his building...

Perhaps Percival would fail and quickly come back inside but Credence didn't care about that: his human was trying and he considered a success even the smallest of steps forward. Percival had spent months being tortured; he needed more than a few weeks to find his old self again.

But could he, really? How to come back to his previous habits and self when he had been so deeply changed by the last events? Credence knew that part of what made the old Percival had died in that basement and would not come back. The man had to figure out who he wanted to be now.

  


  


As he stood in front of his last painting, Percival frowned. Everything was black, there was not a single speck of white or lighter colour than deep, shadowy black. He thought of the stark contrast it offered with Credence, with his wings, so white and pure, and suddenly he wanted to rip up the canvas, tear it to pieces, get rid of all this darkness. He wanted to paint the celestial being as he had appeared to him, glowing, surrounded by a light that had warmed his heart.

When Credence peeked into the room later that day, Percival's hands were covered in paint. On the canvas in front of the man, the angel saw the print of white fingers in the middle of the black storm, as if the hand had claimed the shadows and told them not to go farther.

The shadows looked at peace.

  


  


Credence could feel something grow inside his chest. An unknown feeling, an emotion that he could not name; it scared him in a way, as he could not identify this mystery, but he was also unable to fight the slow but steady development of this emotion. He felt compelled to give in but he didn't even know what in to.

It hit him like a slap across the face on the day when he first made Percival laugh. It did not come from anything that funny, really, it was a mere mistake: as the angel prepared the man's morning coffee, he decided to pour himself a cup as well, just to try it... When he took a sip, he found that the hot beverage tasted way too bitter and he thought that he could sweeten it a little... Except that he mistook the salt for the sugar, and the face he made as he tasted the result earned him a hearty laugh from Percival, who nearly chocked on his own drink.

Credence could barely believe his ears as the joyful sound bounced off the walls and his heart gave a flutter at the sight of Percival's eyes, crinkling at the corners with merriness. For the second time in his long life, the angel heard a resonating call within his body, stronger than the first pull he had felt in Heaven, and he suddenly knew what he wanted to do.

He stared at the man, mouth agape as he realised that he wanted to keep these laughter lines right there, to trace them with his fingertips and trail down the bridge of his nose to his lips, chapped but plush, and he wanted his own lips to join his thumb on the man's mouth, tasting the bitter black coffee right off Percival's tongue.

Credence blushed as he realised what he wanted, what he _desired_ , what he was craving for.

Between his shoulder blades, a white feather turned to black.

  


  


As the angel became aware of what he truly felt for Percival, he also realised how the man felt toward him. Reading minds did not come with being a celestial creature but Credence had observed mankind long enough to know what it generally meant when one kept glancing at the other with hopeful eyes and shy smiles. Granted, Credence hardly qualified as a fellow member of Percival's kind but he believed that the process was the same.

Plus, he shared a special bond with his human charge and he had a better understanding of the man's feelings and wants... That were quite explicit, as Credence found out one night, while he was gently caressing Percival's forehead and talking to him as he slept, until the man in his arms moaned his name in a soft whisper.

As the angel experienced arousal for the first time in thousands of years, a long feather at the tip of his right wing took a dark colour. He didn't notice it before Percival pointed it out to him the next day, voice curious and slightly awed, as always when he discussed heavenly matters with the angel.

"Is it normal?" Percival asked, fingers ghosting over the incriminated feather, this shy of actually stroking the mostly white wing. "What does it mean?"

"It means that I am changing," Credence answered on a soft tone, leaving out the first question on purpose.

The mutation was normal for someone in his situation, yet it was abnormal for any angel who believed to be worthy of this title. Credence's wings were changing though and he knew perfectly why: every step, metaphorical or not, he would take toward Percival would increase the distance between Heaven and he.

Credence was falling.

  


  


They weren't from the same world. Credence knew that and even though it hurt him beyond words, more than he could ever have imagined, he also knew that he could not allow himself to cherish Percival the way his heart wanted to. Besides, angels were not supposed to stay with their human... And Credence had already broken their laws once since they were not authorised to appear to their charge and had to help from the shadows as invisible benefactors only.

What he had done though, was meant to help Percival - and it worked - so he could not feel much guilt for that. But his feelings... What should he do with them? What would he do, when Percival did not need him anymore and the angel had to go back to Heaven? Except that... Credence felt no certainty that the man would be truly happy without having him around. Was that arrogant of him? Wishful thinking, perhaps?

No. Percival's eyes told no lies.

  


  


His feathers kept turning black. Credence tried not to worry about it.

  


  


Credence had beautiful lips, Percival thought. Eyes, too. But in his wildest dreams, he didn't think of the angel's mouth or eyes, no: he dreamt of wings. Black and white feathers shielding him, covering him, caressing his heated skin. He wanted to touch them, let his fingers slide through the soft wings and watch the angel's reaction. He wondered if they were sensitive, if they would make Credence twitch and gasp in pleasure. He hoped so.

  


  


Inevitably, his - their - repressed feelings would find a way out of their hearts and mouths, Credence knew it. The day it happened began like any other day, except that Percival looked weary and nervous, eyes often drifting toward the front door and the cane that waited there patiently, until he was ready.

"Credence?" he called out in the early afternoon, with so much hesitation in his tone that the angel already felt compelled to reassure him, even though he had no idea of what was worrying the man yet.

A gentle pressure of his fingertips above the man's brows did just that and Percival smiled gratefully, used as he was by now to the soothing effects of Credence's powers.

"There is a park," the man said softly, "a few blocs down. I was wondering if... If maybe you would like to come with me?"

Credence lit up all of a sudden, his heart filled with hopes at what the man was implying: he wanted to go out but didn't dare to do it on his own. The angel would be more than happy to offer his company, both to stay with his human and discover this world, as he had never left the apartment since his arrival.

When they eventually walked through the door, Percival was holding onto his cane with his right hand, limping his way down the staircase to the first floor, and he had entwined the fingers of his left hand with Credence's without even noticing. The angel did not mind at all though, not even when the man's iron grip tightened as they took their first step on the sidewalk. Percival walked slowly, every step harder to take than the previous one, but he did not give up: it took some time but finally, they made it to the park.

Percival was shaking by the time they reached a bench, a bit away from the children running around and the happy couples kissing in the grass - a sight that made Credence's heart lurch with want as the angel glanced at Percival.

"You did it," he whispered in the man's ear, pride audible in his tone.

"Did I?" Percival asked, exhausted. "I feel so weak... Look at me, I'm shaking after a fifteen minutes walk, I almost broke your hand, I..."

Credence squeezed the human's fingers to interrupt him as gently as he could.

"You are the strongest person I know," he said, and he believed every word. "So what if you need help? It does not make you weak... Beside, I'm happy to provide it."

The hesitant smile on Percival's lips blinded him and Credence suddenly realised that he could not advert his gaze. Staring at the man's mouth, he heard his heartbeat go wild as he thought _I want to kiss him. I want to taste him. I want his arms around me_. He glanced up, locking eyes with Percival, where he saw the reflection of the exact same desire.

None of them knew who took the decision and closed the distance between their bodies, they just did it. Credence gasped when hot lips captured his mouth, a warm hand cupping his face, and the angel clutched to the lapels of Percival's coat, pressing against the man's chest to fit his slender frame between his strong arms. He was tingling all over, as if fireworks were exploding under his skin, and a long shiver ran down his spine when Percival nibbled on his lower lip, a silent request for access.

Credence had never felt anything like that before. He had imagined what kissing his human would feel like, yes, but he had never thought that it would feel so good and _right_. A muffled moan escaped his throat when Percival's tongue caressed his own and the angel was slowly coming short of breath but he did not wish to stop, he wanted to keep going, to feel more of this, more, more, more...

When he stepped back, breathless himself, Percival looked positively obscene and Credence blushed upon catching his searing gaze. Bright eyes, swollen lips, tousled hair where the angel had ran one hand through the long strands, unable to hold back... Credence probably looked the same way though, and his flush spread from his cheeks to his neck.

In his mind, the special spot where he could feel his bond to Percival was buzzing with warmth and contentment. Happiness.

  


  


That afternoon, Percival showed Credence how to use a brush and apply thin layers of paint to a blank canvas. A few days later, the angel spread his wings and stood absolutely still as his protégé touched the feathers in a gentle and delicate caress of his fingers, until he found a ticklish spot that made the beautiful creature break in a fit of giggles - Percival was delighted.

On another day, they nearly burned the kitchen as they were too busy kissing on the couch to realise that the pancakes had caught fire.

"I love you," Credence whispered against the man's neck one night, thinking that he was asleep already.

"I love you too," Percival said the next day as he placed a kiss on the angel's cheek and a cup of tea in his hands while he was reading, book open on his knees.

  


  


The last white feather turned black.

  


  


There came a day when kissing was not enough anymore. Although they could spend hours tasting each other's lips and not grow tired of it, they desired something else, something more. The thought was nagging at Credence's mind when he lay next to Percival at night, the both of them clothed but also close enough to feel the warmth coming from the other's body. The angel had never done this before - he had never felt the urge, the desire. But now he did and he knew that Percival wanted him too...

It happened naturally. One night as they were making out on the couch, Credence's lips ended up neglecting the man's mouth in favour of his throat, where he nipped at the thin and sensitive skin. It was not his fault that Percival wore a scoop neck t-shirt at night, one that revealed his collarbones and tempted the angel in more ways than one. Curious, he trailed his tongue across the protruding bone and elicited a gasp, followed by Percival's hands grabbing his waist in a rocky, involuntary move that brought them impossibly closer.

Credence suddenly felt the hard line of Percival's cock pressing into his thigh, long and hot against him, awaking his own burning desire, but then the man backed off as quickly as he had pushed them together.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to do this..."

"It is fine," the angel said against his lips, approaching Percival again, tentatively rolling his crotch against his lover's.

"Credence," the man gasped, eyelids snapping shut under the sensation. "If you keep this up, I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself."

"I'm not sure I want you to," the other teased, although his voice was vibrating with nerves and impatience.

Percival sat upright and opened his eyes wide, staring at Credence in mixed disbelief and awe as he processed the words. Carefully, he asked:

"Would you... Do you... want more?"

It wasn't very explicit but the angel, feeling bold and brave, nodded as he straddled the man's lap and cupped his face to press tiny kisses at the corners of his mouth, until he felt a smile against his lips.

"I have never done this," Credence explained, "but I want it... And I want it with you."

Percival only nodded, unable to utter a single word. He could barely believe that a creature as pure as Credence, an angel, had chosen him. What had he done to deserve such a miracle in his life? Perhaps it was his reward, for fighting and holding his tongue even when his body was nothing but a doll in the hands of a mad puppeteer.

He didn't want to think about that. Right now, only Credence mattered. Credence, so beautiful on top of him and so trusting as Percival gently rolled them over to lay him down on the soft sheets. Credence, body thrumming with excitation and want, hands as light as butterflies as they roamed across Percival's strong back and shoulders, striving to learn every curve, every muscle, every scar that made this man the man he loved.

There were laughs, awkward and genuine, as they made love for the first time; there were hoarse grunts and keen moans, soft cries and long pants as they discovered each other's body and the perfect places to touch in order to draw beautiful sounds out of their mouths... Percival's throat. Credence's ears. Inconsequential parts of himself the angel had never thought could bring him so much pleasure but then, Percival was crawling under the blanket, tickling the angel's belly with his breath, until a wet mouth stretched around him and made him cry out. His black wings were twitching with every lick, so responsive it felt almost like too much, until _too much_ turned into _not enough anymore_ as Percival slowly brought his fingers lower, searching, circling, finally pushing and brushing against a spot that made Credence see stars.

Soon, they truly made one as milky thighs spread to allow Percival in between, locking around his waist to keep him there and urge him on, begging him to _do it, please, take me, I want you_. Then, as his lover finally moved inside him, Credence let out a long, broken moan and he forgot everything that wasn't Percival, everything that made them so different; Heaven and earth, angel and man, none of that mattered anymore. Right now, there was nothing but two people loving each other: Percival, trembling under the effort and emotion and Credence, shaking and coming apart in his arms. Where he belonged.

  


  


His feathers turning black one by one should have been Credence's warning.

  


  


Something felt weird when the angel got out of bed that morning, as if something was off with him. Tiredness burned behind his eyes and that alone was not normal. Credence was not supposed to feel anything like exhaustion and yet... He strained with every step he took toward the bathroom. He could barely lift his feet off the floor and had to shuffle his way to the shower but thankfully, the hot water running down his tired body and his heavy wings helped to reinvigorate him.

He massaged his rigid shoulders, another sign of abnormality, and his eyes widened in horror when one of his hands came back bloody. Turning his head, twisting his body as much as he could, Credence tried to catch sight of his shoulder, searching for a wound, anything that could explain the blood trickling down his fingers.

The answer lay between his feet. Soaked and slowly dragged by the weak stream of the water toward the drain, a single black feather was floating.

  


  


He remembered that Newt, a long time ago, had explained to him how angels fell sometimes. A rare occurrence, fortunately, but one that happened from time to time nonetheless. Lucifer had been the first to fall... His punishment for having refused to bow down in front of their Father's newest creation: mankind. Now, Credence was being punished as well, but for an entirely different reason, one that seemed very unfair. Lucifer was the rebellious one. Credence, well... He was the angel who loved mankind, and a specific man, too much for his own good.

  


  


It didn't take long for Percival to notice that Credence was not doing well. When he asked though, the angel only smiled and told him that he worried too much, but the man wasn't blind: he could see how exhausted his lover seemed to be, his joyful laugh gone, as well as his usually good mood and excitement about everything humanity-related. Heck, the angel even seemed cranky sometimes, although he always apologised afterwards, tears in his eyes as he said that he didn't mean to snap at Percival. There was something seriously wrong, a spark that had gone missing, and Percival did not know what to do - where to get it back. How could he, when Credence didn't even want to explain what the problem was?

On his part, the angel was scared. Scared of what would happen to him and afraid that Percival might fall back into a dark pit of despair if Credence wasn't there anymore to help him. He did not want to tell his lover how they would perhaps be torn apart: he wished to enjoy the last moments they could have together without fearing the future - or at least, Percival should not know that fear, even if the angel had to pretend to be alright.

Credence decided that it would be his last gift to his protégé: bliss, while they could have it.

  


  


Bliss was apparently not meant to last. One morning, Percival woke up at his usual hour (eight sharp, now that nightmares didn't plague his nights anymore) and rolled onto his side to face Credence, knowing that the angel would be awake already and expecting to see his gorgeous smile as he observed him. But the bed was empty. Cold.

Stupidly, Percival reached out anyway, thinking that perhaps Credence had turned invisible - something he did from time to time, mostly when they went out together, and he made himself invisible to all eyes but Percival's. However, he found nothing but air and, as his hand came back on the mattress, damp fabric. Frowning, the man turned on the lamp on his bedside table, illuminating the room, and he gasped as soon as he caught sight of the empty spot next to him.

Blood and feathers, red and black on the white sheets.

The sight was like a cold fist closing around his heart and squeezing, fear descending upon him even as he jumped out of the bed, nearly tripping over the blanket in his haste to find Credence.

He didn't have to go far, nor was it hard to trail the angel: red drops made up a perfectly fine but frightful path and soon, Percival found his lover, unconscious, lying in a puddle of his own blood across the threshold of the bathroom.

"Credence!" he cried out in panic, rushing to the angel's side.

He didn't know where to begin, his hands hovering over the body, shaking, until he placed two fingers in front of the angel's mouth, holding his breath until he could feel Credence's own slow and uncertain breathing against his fingertips. He was alive, thank God! But all that blood... It came from his shoulder blades. Percival gasped when he noticed the pitiful state of the angel's wings, which he had not realised before, too focused on making sure that his lover was still alive.

His wings were broken. Very few feathers remained attached to the fragile bones, one or two long black plumes at the tip of each wing, shorter or downy ones here and there, miserably hanging on when Credence had been nothing but majestic before.

Percival didn't waste time wondering what had happened, even though he did wonder; instead, he grabbed the first towel he could find in the bathroom and pressed it as firmly as he could against the largest gashes across the angel's back. Credence whimpered in his arms but the man was relieved to hear that sound, too scared of the silence and what it would mean.

"Hang on," he whispered against his lover's forehead, where he placed a soft kiss afterwards. "You will be alright, don't worry... I'll take care of you."

They couldn't go to a hospital, even though they probably should, but then he wouldn't be able to explain the wings - or what was left of them. He lifted Credence off the floor, apologising at the new pained whine the angel let out, and he brought him back to the bedroom where he laid him down on the clean half of the sheets.

"Perc..." Credence whispered, trailing off as his voice broke.

"I'm here," the man said in a gentle, soothing murmur, "I'm right here, darling."

The angel seemed to relax a little at the words, although his face was scrunched up in pain, and it broke Percival's heart to see him struggle against the burning ache as he tried to clean Credence's wounds with the towel, proceeding with care, and he only left for a few minutes, rushing to the bathroom to grab bandages and compresses.

The deep gashes across his shoulder blades turned out to be awkward places to apply a dressing to but Percival did his best, hoping that it would hold on long enough to help Credence's recovery. If not, then he would change the dressing and do it again.

"Do you need anything?" he asked the angel once he was done. "Water? Painkillers? One more blanket?"

His lover subtly shook his head, a barely noticeable gesture that Percival only saw because he was so focused on him.

"Just... Stay," the angel whispered, turning pleading eyes toward him. "I need you."

  


  


They spent the morning in bed, Percival spooning his lover without touching him as to not reopen the wounds and hurt the broken wings that must be so painful still. While Credence slept a little, Percival couldn't and remained wide awake, stroking his lover's hip with his thumb, holding back his tears at the sight of the angel, so vulnerable and in so much pain.

How did this happen? It was impossible that Credence had hurt himself that badly by colliding with something or stumbling, so... All Percival managed to think about was a divine punishment. But why? Did the angel fail his mission of protecting him? He didn't think so: although he was still recovering and still feared the outside world, Percival knew that he was doing much better. The darkness he had fallen into so many months ago had turned into light, still weak in some places, but he had found his way out nonetheless, thanks to Credence.

The angel suddenly stirred in his arms, moaning softly as he stretched his body, his wings twitching painfully, and he turned glassy eyes towards his lover.

"Hey," Percival whispered, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from his face. "How are you feeling?"

Credence attempted to shrug but immediately stopped when spikes of pain ran down his shoulders. The dressings Percival had taken so much care to apply were already soaking with blood in places.

"I'm falling," the angel stated, eyes cast down.

"What?" Percival asked, a little confused as he was not familiar with the process like Credence. "What does that mean?"

"It means... I... I cannot be an angel anymore. My wings..."

A sob passed his lips when he tried to move one of his wings and failed, the gesture too painful to complete, even as another feather fell off. Percival hugged him gently, careful not to hurt his lover, and let Credence cry on his shoulder, fat tears wetting the fabric of his pyjamas.

"I... I am so sorry!" the angel cried out, "I wanted... I wanted to make you ha... happy for as long as I could, but I..."

"Shhhh," Percival whispered against his neck, closing his eyes under the waves of sadness crashing on the shore of his heart, "You make me happy, Credence. I love you."

"When I... When I'm gone," the angel whispered, and only then did Percival truly realise what fate was awaiting him, "I want you to keep going. Promise me, please, promise me that you will find a way to stay in the light. I know that you can do it. You are so strong..."

The only answer he obtained was the wetness of tears against his neck as his lover cried in silence, tightening his embrace ever so slightly, holding onto the angel as if he believed that he could shield him with his own body and keep his fate away.

"Percival..." he pleaded.

"Yeah, I... I promise," the man said, although he sounded reluctant, and he added on a broken tone, "How long...?"

_How long do we have left, how long can we stay together, how long can I love you?_

"I don't know," Credence admitted on a low tone. "Hours? A few days, maybe?"

Percival's arms tightened around him in distress.

  


  


"Why?" the man asked a few hours later, breaking the silence. "Why is this happening to you? You have done nothing wrong..."

The heavy sigh and the sad eyes Credence lifted to his face told Percival that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I fell in love with you," he said, "when I was not supposed to. You were meant to be a mission, nothing else, nothing more, but I... I could not leave it at that. I was supposed to only love my Father... But I love you more."

Through their bond, Credence could feel the exact instant when Percival started to blame himself for what was happening, feeling guilty for seducing a creature of God and leading him astray, but the angel was quick to react.

"Do not," he enjoined him. "Do not blame yourself over this. It is not your fault, Percival, you did not know... And neither did I. I did not realise the consequences... But I do not regret them either, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat."

Percival shook his head, unshed tears burning his eyes, coating his lashes.

"Maybe there's a way to save you," he said. "Maybe it's not too late! It kills me to ask but I... I would rather have you alive and back in Heaven than here with me, dying."

"What... What are you... saying?" Credence asked with some difficulty.

Percival took a deep breath, before he kissed the angel's lips - one last time, he thought.

"Abjure your love for me," he finally whispered. "Abjure your love and live. Even if we're apart, I'll know that you're alive and well, and I'll cherish the time we had."

"No."

"Credence, my love," Percival pleaded, prayed. "Please, you have to..."

"No!" the angel cried. "I... I can't. I don't want to lie about this to live. I may have betrayed my Father but I cannot betray my heart."

The man bit his lower lip, his last hope to see Credence live vanishing like snow melting in the sun, and fresh tears ran down his cheeks.

  


  


"I love you, you know?" the angel whispered, his tone soft and sad.

"I know. I love you too."

  


  


Credence closed his eyes the next morning, a small smile on his lips that Percival had just kissed. The last feather fell softly on the bed.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading! I would be delighted to know what you thought about this, since it literally took years to write, so feel free to leave some feedback! As a side note, if you read my story [Easy (was not part of the plan)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9240653/chapters/20955953), know that I will update soon - I was focusing on this one-shot, hence the delayed update... See you soon!


End file.
